


You Can Afford to Lose a Day or Two

by Chash



Series: And So It Goes [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: Bellamy doesn't really think of Abby Griffin as an unsolved problem. She and Clarke fell out, and he figured that was it.But she is still Clarke's mom. It would be nice, if they worked it out.





	You Can Afford to Lose a Day or Two

"So, I need to call my mom," says Clarke.

Bellamy is playing Dragon Age, which means Clarke probably doesn't want him to be too serious about this conversation. If she wanted his full attention, she'd ask for it. Bringing this up now is a tactical decision.

So he asks, "Am I supposed to be involved?" and makes a point of not looking away from the TV.

"Well, I'm calling her about you."

That actually surprises him. "What about me?"

"Everything. She doesn't even know we're talking again, let alone dating. I haven't talked to her since--" She seems to be thinking it over. "I guess she called when I graduated, but that was only like ten minutes. And then before that was Christmas."

He pauses and then asks, "Do you not want me to be looking at you for this? Was that on purpose?"

"You don't have to be giving me your full attention."

It sounds genuine, but it's not like he has to be playing video games right now either. It honestly still feels a little weird that he's spending the afternoon playing video games while Clarke reads. After two weeks of dating, there's a part of him that still thinks every moment should be precious.

Which isn't even wrong. It's just that the moments don't really have to be very special to be precious. And they're not really a precious commodity anymore.

He still pauses the game and slides closer to Clarke. She's on her laptop, looking at pictures her mother was tagged in on Facebook of some event at a museum he remembers going to for field trips when he was a kid. She's with Marcus Kane, and she looks happy, from what he can tell.

"We haven't really talked about your mom, huh?"

"It's not really that bad." He gives her a look, and she laughs. "It's not! But you know it's expensive to get to Arcadia. Either you drive or you fly and someone has to get you from the airport. She comes back to DC sometimes and we have dinner and or get together and it's fine. But we're not close."

"And she won't give you money."

She scowls. "It's not like that. She probably would now, but I haven't asked, and I don't want to. But--yeah, we're awkward, and we don't know how to stop being awkward."

"So, same as always," he teases. But she still looks upset, so he takes the laptop off her lap and tugs her against him. "I didn't mean the money thing, like--it's not a rich kid thing. Parents help their kids if they can. That's how it should work. Withholding money as a punishment is fucked up."

"It's not like she knows."

"She knew when she cut you off for college, right?"

"Yeah." She rubs her face. "We're both just stubborn. We don't know how to talk, so we don't. And it's harder when we don't see each other, but we can't see each other either."

"But you want to tell her about me?"

"I do. I want to see what she says."

He blinks, and then it clicks. "You're testing her?"

"You make it sound so sinister."

"Yeah, that's because it's kind of sinister," he teases. "You want to see what she says."

"I actually was thinking I wanted to update my Facebook relationship status. _In a relationship with Bellamy Blake_. But she likes all my statuses, and I feel like I shouldn't let her find out like that."

"Yeah, that seems kind of passive aggressive." He rubs his thumb against her shoulder, thinking through his phrasing. He can't come up with anything great, so he just tells her that. "So, I'm trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like I'm worried about it. So, uh, I don't actually care, but I never got a good sense for how much your mom actually hated _me_. Personally."

Clarke seems to be thinking it over too. "Yeah, I guess I'm not sure either. I think she just didn't like that I was seriously dating. But it didn't help that you were poor and weren't planning on leaving Arcadia."

"I got out before she did, so joke's on her."

"Joke's on her." She takes his hand and laces their fingers together. "I think she'll be happy for me. For us. I went back to school right after we broke up, but--she still knew how hard it was on me, and she was sorry about it. But not dating means I don't really know how I'm supposed to tell her I'm dating again. We barely talk as it is. But I don't want to _not_ tell her." She huffs. "I should have just sent her a shirtless picture of you like I wanted to."

He chokes. "What?"

"I thought about it. You look really good when you're asleep."

"Honestly, _I want to send my mom pictures of you sleeping_ is the creepiest thing you've ever said to me."

"Well, when you put it like _that_." She closes her eyes and drops her head back against his chest. "You're the first thing that feels like a good test for her."

"You're going to need to explain that."

"If I told her I needed money, she would have given it to me. I know that. If I told her I was having trouble, she would have wanted to help. And that's--it's good, but I wouldn't know if anything had changed, you know? She would have done it because she felt bad. It's like you helping me fix the heat in my apartment. You would have helped anyone, so it didn't mean you still--"

"Anyone else I would have done it myself," he says. "I had to send Miller so I wouldn't be alone with you."

"But you get what I mean."

"Yeah, I think I get it. Not wild about you comparing me to your mom, but--"

She laughs. "I know. Do you mind, um--I kind of want to do it now? With you around. You don't have to say anything, I just want company."

"Will you put it on speakerphone so I can eavesdrop?"

"Do you want me to?"

"I figure you're going to tell me what she said either way, so this cuts out the middle man. Unless you don't want me to."

"No, that's fine." She finds her phone and pulls up her contacts. "Honestly, she's probably going to panic that I'm calling again so soon. It's only been a month. She'll think something's up."

He presses a kiss to her shoulder. "Something is up," he points out, and she just smiles.

The phone starts ringing, so he mutes the TV and unpauses his game. He wants to listen, but he doesn't want Clarke to feel like he's _just_ listening. It's mostly moral support.

And a little bit nosiness. Just a little.

Abby picks up on the second ring, and, as Clarke predicted, she sounds worried. "Clarke? Is that you?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Hi! Is everything okay?"

She gives him an _I told you so_ look that seems mostly fond. "Yeah, everything's good. Really good, actually. I thought I should tell you about the boyfriend before we update our Facebooks."

"A boyfriend?" asks Abby. She sounds happy, at least so far. "Honey, that's great. It's been a while, hasn't it? Since you had anything serious."

Clarke cranes her head to smile at him. "About eight years, yeah."

"Well, tell me about him. What does he do? How did the two of you meet?"

"Yeah, um--that's kind of the thing. You already know. It's still Bellamy."

The _still_ makes his heart trip, even though it's not news to him. He knows it was the same for her as it was for him, but it's just a little bit unbelievable, sometimes.

"I don't remember if I told you he was in the navy?" Clarke goes on, when her mother doesn't say anything. "He finished active duty last December and moved here."

"And he looked you up?" Abby asks. Maybe Clarke can read her tone, but Bellamy can't.

"No. You remember I told you about my friend Monty? He's actually dating Bellamy's best friend. So we ended up back in the same social circle. It was totally by chance."

Bellamy finds her hand and gives it a quick squeeze. It's true, of course, but the thought is staggering. How long could they have been in DC together, living on the same train line, not even knowing it? He doesn't really believe in miracles, in any religious sense, but he considers it the most fortunate event of his entire life that it didn't take longer for the two of them to find out about each other. That he got her back so soon, even for those first few painful months.

"Well, that's--I assume it's good, or you wouldn't be dating him again," Abby finally says, careful.

"Yeah, it's great. I always--I spent so long wishing we could have worked it out, you know? And we couldn't have back then, but I'm glad we still work now."

"I'm glad too. Does he still have family up here? I remember his parents were--gone, but he had a sister, didn't he?"

He's oddly moved that she remembered, and from Clarke's warm tone, she must be too. "Yeah, a little sister. Octavia. She's living down here too, though."

"So, the two of you aren't likely to come up to visit."

"I'm sure we'll make it up there sooner or later," Clarke says. "But you know how expensive it is to get up there."

"If you ever need help with the ticket--" 

"I know. Maybe once I'm settled in at the new job and have some time off."

"What does Bellamy do now?"

"He's going to be a teacher in the fall. High school history, just like he always wanted."

"That's great. And you're--" She pauses. "I'm glad you're happy."

"Yeah."

"Maybe I can come down sometime soon. There's a conference in Maryland I was thinking about attending. Maybe the three of us could have dinner. For old time's sake."

Bellamy nearly snorts at that one, which would be awkward. But he catches himself.

"That would be a great uncomfortable throwback," Clarke teases, and Abby actually laughs.

"I thought so." There's a pause, and then she says. "I'm very happy for you. The two of you always--it was obvious how much you cared about each other. It's going well?"

"Yeah," says Clarke. "It's amazing."

Bellamy frees one of his hands from the Playstation controller to squeeze Clarke's fingers, and she kisses his jaw. 

"I'll let you know if I'm coming down. Say hello to Bellamy for me."

"Will do."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Bye, Mom." She disconnects the call and flops into his lap, eyes closed. "I'm an asshole."

"I've always thought so." He kisses her forehead. "Why now?"

"I always have to psych myself up for a call with her, and then she's always so happy. It's never--she's trying. I don't know how to make it better."

"It's not just on you, Clarke. She doesn't call you either. And you're not the one who should be apologizing." He wets his lips, sliding his hand into her hair and rubbing gently. "Look, I'm not--kids can be wrong, and kids can be assholes. Sometimes it's on them. But--sometimes your kids get pissed at you, and sometimes it's for stupid shit you can't control, like--"

"Like your mom dying," she supplies.

"Or having to get divorced, yeah. It sucks. It sucked for me when O spent years not listening to me and blaming me for all her problems. It's not _fair_ , but--it's not the same as if you and I had a fight, okay?"

"I think you have some fucked up views about parenting." Her voice is gentle, and she remembers this too. She was the one who got his emails about his sister sneaking out, not calling him. 

It's nice, that she knows him so well. 

"I know what you mean," she adds, turning her head so she can kiss his palm. "But if my mom's not going to do it, I have to decide if I want to."

"It's okay if you don't. It doesn't make you an asshole."

"I get that you never gave up on Octavia. But you're not my mom. She probably thinks she's being--polite. Doing what I want."

"Clarke," he says, gentle. "You're not obligated to forgive her, okay? Or to be--anything."

"No. But I could call her more."

"If you want, yeah."

"And if she comes, we're getting dinner with her."

"I figured."

"If she finds out--" Clarke exhales. "If I talk to her, she's going to find out how little money I have and how I'm struggling and I don't want it to be a thing. I don't want her to try to save me. I don't need her help."

"She doesn't have to find out."

"Yeah?"

"You and Raven have a decent place now. You've got a job and you're making money. She's got to know you're not rich, you couldn't be. But you're not living in a fucking hellhole anymore--"

"You never even saw it!" Clarke protests, laughing.

"Jesus, I know. Trust me, I thought about it all the time. I was trying to come up with excuses to show up and check it out. If Raven hadn't moved in when she did I was going to do something stupid."

"We were theoretically friends," she teases. "You just had to ask. I would have had you over any time. You could have come and fixed my radiators yourself."

"Yeah, that would have been--" He pauses and reconsiders. "I was going to say it would have been a disaster, being alone with you, but--I guess it wouldn't have gone as badly as I thought."

Clarke smiles. "It probably would have. We would have been really awkward and I wouldn't have known what to say or--anything."

"Par for the course, huh?"

"Basically."

He leans down to press his mouth to hers. "The important thing is that I'm no longer worried about you dying in your apartment, so your mom probably won't be either."

"You do worry about people more than anyone else in the universe."

"Except you," he shoots back. 

"Except me." She exhales. "Okay. I don't feel shitty anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Definitely not. You're right, it's not like--I haven't wanted to reach out. Now I kind of do. So I can start if I want, and if I don't, I won't. Right?"

"I think so. And if she comes down, I have to have dinner with her?"

"Love is suffering, Bellamy."

He snorts. "Yeah, I noticed."

"I really think she doesn't have anything against you. So that's cool."

"Wow, ringing endorsement." But it honestly does make him feel better. "She'll take us somewhere fancy if she visits, right? I can get one of those really good steaks. Or lobster."

"Definitely."

He kisses her forehead again. "Cool. Then yeah, I'm in."

"Glad this isn't the deal breaker," she says. After two weeks, it sounds natural for her to joke about it, and Bellamy's heart swells up with stupid joy. She makes it sound exactly as unthinkable as it is, that he'd give her up.

"Not yet," he says, and starts his game up again. "I'll keep you posted."

*

Bellamy can't really say he's surprised that there's no seismic shift in Clarke's relationship with her mother. She updates her Facebook relationship status to indicate they're together, and Abby likes it, as expected. She even sends him a friend request, which he accepts, and on the rare occasion that he posts or is tagged in something, she likes that too.

They do see Clarke's father, from time to time, and that goes well, so he figures he doesn't have to stress to much about her mother. Being on good terms with one out of two of her parents is honestly better than he expected to do with this. And when Clarke calls to wish her mother a happy birthday at the beginning of September, that seems fine too. There's no mention of her coming down to DC, and they're planning to stay in town for the holidays.

In October, they get the save the date for the wedding, which is apparently in April, and they're both invited.

"Have you ever even met the groom?" he asks.

She scowls. "Have you?"

"Yeah, but he's not marrying my mom. So I'm not really sure why it's relevant."

"I've met him," she says. "Twice, I think? They came down to DC a couple times. I like him. I'm happy for them."

"You're going to need to practice saying that."

She smiles, some of the tension draining from her shoulders. "I _am_. It's just--it's weird, right?"

"Not that weird. Honestly, I have no idea how much I'd talk to my mom if she was still alive," he says. "I definitely wouldn't go home that often. It's a pain."

"You went to Arcadia last Christmas," she says.

"Octavia was going off with Lincoln and I was lonely. And fucked up about you," he can't help adding. "I don't think Miller would have left me alone."

Her smile is a little wistful. "He wouldn't have, would he?"

His first instinct is to grumble about it, make it a joke, but her tone gets him. "No. What's wrong?"

"Sometimes I'm a little jealous, I guess. I'm really glad you had Miller watching your back, but--"

But she didn't have anyone. He always thought she would, always thought she'd be surrounded by people, move on from him in no time at all, but--even the friends she had, she didn't talk to about him. Miller was there for the breakup, even if he wasn't physically around, and he was there when Bellamy found Clarke again. 

And Clarke was off on her own, not telling anyone and stewing in her own feelings. He's not convinced she _had_ to be, but--he's not really surprised, either. 

He loves Clarke, but she really will just suffer alone in silence forever, if you let her.

He wraps his arm around her and tugs her in. "Yeah. It was good, having someone to talk to. I wish you had that."

"I have it now."

"Romantic. But kind of beside the point." He picks up the save the date card, turns it over critically. It's on really heavy cardstock and is very impressive. "We're going, right?"

"Yeah." She worries her lip. "She didn't have a Miller either."

"What?"

"During the divorce. I was all she had, and I didn't want to be with her. I think about that sometimes. It must have been so hard, and--"

He hugs her. "You can try to make it better if you want. But you're not a bad person if you don't."

"Let's start with the wedding," she says, smiling into his shoulder. "And go from there."

*

Bellamy's first year of teaching is basically like being thrown into a frying pan and then constantly poked from all side with spatulas, but in a mostly rewarding way, so by the time the wedding rolls around, he's excited to get a few days off in the middle of nowhere to relax. Part of him wants to stress about the event itself, but he has trouble. Even if Clarke's mom is awkward, they're in good shape: living together, engaged and planning their own small ceremony for sometime in June, with rewarding jobs and tons of things they can talk about during awkward lulls in conversation.

It's the best possible headspace for him to be in for this event, especially since Clarke is, not shockingly, kind of a wreck.

"Do you need to talk through this?" he asks. "What do you think is going to go wrong?"

She squeezes his hand and inches in. They're on the plane, which is really not the best place to snuggle, but they're making do.

"I don't think anything is going to go wrong. I think it's going to be fine. But--I don't know if it's ever going to be _better_. It could always be like this. I'm never going to be comfortable with my mother again."

He buries his nose in her hair, smiles a little. "You thought it was going to be like that with me too," he points out. "And look at us now."

She finds the ring she bought him to wear until they're married, on the grounds that it seemed unfair only she got an engagement ring, and slides her fingers over it. They both do it from time to time, just a reminder. Physical proof that they belong to each other. "Look at us now," she agrees, and closes her eyes to sleep through the flight.

Part of Bellamy wanted to book a hotel while they were here, but Clarke's mom offered them the guest room, and it seemed like it would be rude, weird, and economically unwise to turn her down. The potential for awkwardness didn't override all other logic and reason, no matter how much he wanted it to, so they'll just be staying in the house. Abby also offered to come get them from the airport, but they agreed that one didn't make any sense. Abby is getting _married_ , after all. She and Mr. Kane are going to be busy. If they're saving on the hotel, they can afford to rent a car.

Bellamy drives mostly because Clarke is a ball of anxiety, and it's a little disconcerting for him. He's made this drive a thousand times, but the last few times he's been back, he's been a passenger, usually sitting in the back seat while Miller and his dad chat in the front, zoning out as he watches the trees pass, trying not to think too much about anything.

It's strange to be back in the driver's seat, to be going back with _Clarke_. They haven't been in Arcadia together since they broke up, and he never thought they would be again.

"It doesn't make any fucking sense," he finally tells her. He can't keep it in anymore.

She startles away from looking out the window herself. "Hm?"

"I lived here my whole life. Twenty years, before I met you. But every time I came back, all I could think about was you."

"Wow," says Clarke, voice warm and amused. She tugs his right hand off the steering wheel so she can hold it until he needs it again. "I can't believe I ruined your entire hometown."

"You're an overachiever," he says, and she squeezes his fingers. "It's not like I ever liked it much. Until my mom died, I couldn't wait to get out. And then when I realized I wasn't going to, it got worse."

"And I was the last good thing?"

"Octavia and Miller too. But they couldn't really save Arcadia for me. Neither of them wanted to stay either."

"Maybe it'll be fun," Clarke says. "It's a nice town. We can go hiking or something."

It makes him smile. "It is just about O's birthday. Kind of our anniversary," he adds, without thinking, and then feels weird. It's not, really, but--it does feel like it. That trip's always felt like a big deal to him, a seismic shift. The first time he really thought he might get her back.

"Part one," Clarke agrees, no hesitation. "We could just go somewhere I can sketch. You can read or nap or something."

"That sounds nice, yeah. And I'm sure your mom has wedding shit you need to do."

"Rehearsal dinner tomorrow, but not much else. They don't really have a wedding party, so I don't have bridesmaid stuff or anything. I think it's big, but that's just the reception. The ceremony should be pretty simple."

"Open bar?"

"Definitely."

"Perfect." He drums his left hand on the steering wheel. "I assume we're not bragging to people about how you got disowned, like we did at Lexa's party."

"No. But we can be honest about what I'm doing. I've got a good job, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You do too."

"Some of the guests will probably remember me."

"That's fine. My mom knew what she was getting into when she invited us. She wants us there."

"Or she knows it would have been really awkward to invite you without me," he teases. But she frowns, so he adds, "I'm not worried. I just want to be there for you. However you need."

"Just be yourself," she says. "I'm kind of into you."

"Huh," he says, smiling. "I had no idea."

Abby and Mr. Kane moved in together at some point in the last few years, which meant Abby leaving the house she and Clarke lived in and moving into the Kane House. That's how Bellamy always thought of it as a kid: the Kane House. The Kanes are one of those families everyone knows, old and wealthy, with various parts of the town named after them. It's not exactly surprising that Clarke's mom fell in with that set, but it did make him wince when he thought of it, during their separation. Every time, it felt like this stark reminder why she'd broken up with him. Those were her people, not him.

But Abby and Mr. Kane are waiting for them at the house, looking genuinely excited to see them, and Mr. Kane offers his hand while Abby swoops Clarke up in a hug.

"Good to see you again, Bellamy. It's been a long time."

"Good to see you too, Mr. Kane," he says. Mr. Kane was on the school board when he and Octavia were kids; they didn't see each other often, but once Bellamy took over his sister's care from his mother, he knows he made himself memorable. He picked some fights.

"Please, call me Marcus," he says. "From what I've heard, we're going to be family in a few months. The wedding is in June?"

"Yeah, that's the plan."

"Congratulations."

"You too."

Abby lets go of Clarke and moves on to him, pulling him in for a hug as well. It's mildly alarming, but only mildly so, and she releases him after only a few seconds and pulls back, inspecting him. 

It's hard to be sure what Clarke's mother sees when she looks at him. Every good part of his brain knows she should be happy. He's a smart, responsible, well-off guy who adores her daughter, and he knows that adoration is written over everything he does. Their relationship is _great_ , and they're both happy.

But the critical part of his brain remembers things like class and race and the stupid fucking biases people don't even think they have, and he can't fully relax under her gaze. Not even when she smiles.

"It's so good to see you again, Bellamy," she says, and to his surprise, it sounds much more genuine than when Kane said it. It sounds like she's really thought about it.

"Yeah," he agrees. He doesn't make it quite as genuine, but it's not bad. "You too."

*

They have a nice dinner at a restaurant Bellamy worked at as a waiter for about six months, but it's been long enough that no one remembers him. It doesn't feel like coming home, honestly, not really. It feels like visiting a place he hasn't ever actually been, just dreamed about or seen on TV.

Clarke reaches over and takes his hand to squeeze it, and he squeezes back, gives her a quick smile when no one else is looking. He's fine; she's the one who needs support here.

It doesn't stop her wrapping around him from behind when they're alone in the guest room, resting her cheek against his back. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"I'm fine," he says. "It's just weird to be back." He puts his hand over hers on his stomach. "How about you? Feeling okay?"

"Yeah. She seems happy. It's nice. And this could be okay, you know?"

"What?"

"Just--we don't see each other that much. That's how it is. It's not how I thought it would be when I was a kid, but--I can live with it. It doesn't feel like we've got unfinished business or anything."

"Cool," he says. "I'm glad."

Abby and Marcus are busy the next day, getting ready for the wedding, so he and Clarke do end up finding somewhere to go hiking. Or at least, to walk around until they find a good place to sit and have a picnic, which is the real goal. Clarke got a blanket from Marcus, so they just stretch it out and Bellamy reads an actual novel for fun with his head in Clarke's lap while she draws, which, after the academic year he's had, feels almost unbelievably decadent. Teaching is really, really hard work.

They pack up once it gets too chilly, and as soon as they're back at the house, they get sucked into wedding stuff. It's not exactly fun, but it makes him feel a lot better about their own wedding plans. It was hard not to feel like low-key and laid back was a bit of a letdown, in the face of the wedding industry, but he absolutely does not want to be stressing this much about marrying Clarke. Marrying Clarke is supposed to be _fun_. He doesn't want it to be a black hole that engulfs all their time and money.

He just wants it to be a good day. He wants basically nothing like this.

Clarke's mother takes her aside for a private chat at the rehearsal dinner, and he can't help worrying about it, but when he asks her how it went in bed that night, all she says is, "Fine," with a smile that convinces him it's true. It probably was. He figured they'd talk, and when they talk, it's always fine. They refuse to be anything but fine. He saw this coming.

He's less prepared for Abby cornering him the next day. 

Partially, it's her _wedding day_ , so it's hard to believe that cornering him is really one of her priorities. She really should have better things to do than talk to him. But somehow, only half an hour into the reception, she comes over, puts her hand on his arm, and says, "Bellamy? I was hoping I could get a dance."

His expression must be absolutely _horrified_ , because Clarke snorts into her glass of champagne, and even Abby looks amused.

"Go ahead," Clarke says, giving him a light shove. "I'll get the next one."

"Uh, sure," he says to Abby, and offers her his arm. He throws Clarke a mildly terrified look over his shoulder, but she just waves and smiles.

So this is fine. She's not worried; he's not worried. 

Definitely not weird at all.

He has no formal dance training at all and generally just feels stupid when he tries to move to any kind of beat, but the playlist theme seems to be "slow dancing in middle school," so nothing is very skill intensive. They get themselves positioned with a little extra room for Jesus, and Bellamy's wondering if he's supposed to speak up first when she says, "You know, I was always very impressed with you."

He nearly chokes. "What?"

"When I told Clarke she had to bring her new boyfriend home, I wasn't expecting you to come. I thought that would be the end of you. I was trying to scare you away, and impressed when it didn't work."

"I don't say this that often, but I think you were underestimating teenage boys."

"Probably. But still. Clarke said you didn't know if I'd--I never disapproved of you. And I would have been happy for the two of you, if you'd been able to stay together the first time."

"Thanks," he says, awkward. It's not that he doesn't appreciate the sentiment, just--he doesn't care that much. It's not something that bothers him.

"How's she doing? Clarke."

"Fine." It feels like a trap of a question, which doesn't even make sense. She _is_ fine. There's no secret intelligence that Abby is going to trick him into giving up. "I think she's good," he adds, and that's true too.

"I know you know how it can be," she says, after a pause. "Clarke said you and your sister had trouble, for a few years. That you might understand how I--" She huffs, and she sounds so much like her daughter. "I never know how to just talk to her."

"That would be a good start," he says, mild. "Just talking."

"I know." She nods, like he said something a lot more profound and meaningful than he did. "The two of you don't need help with your wedding, do you? Clarke said you were keeping it small--"

"Yeah, it's mostly just the reception." He considers her. The offer is genuine, he's sure. And this might be how people like her show affection. It might be the easiest way. "The alcohol's going to be expensive. If you wanted to help out with that, we'd appreciate it. Everything else we can cover."

She nods. "I'll email Clarke to see if she can send us a bill. I wouldn't want anyone to be insufficiently drunk at your wedding," she adds, with a teasing smile.

"Yeah, it's a real concern." He clears his throat. "I meant it about calling. I don't think it would be hard."

"No?"

"No. Just put in a little effort."

He doesn't meant it harshly, and judging from her small smile, she doesn't take it that way. "You're right, that doesn't sound very hard." The song winds down, and she steps away. Not that she was close before. "Thanks for dancing with me."

"Sure. Congratulations. Again."

"Thank you. And thank you for coming. It's good to--" She pauses, searching for the words. "I'm glad you're back in Clarke's life."

"Me too," he says, and that's true without qualifications.

Abby squeezes his shoulder and goes back to mingling with the rest of her guests, and Bellamy takes a minute to feel kind of generally dazed before he makes his way back to Clarke.

She's just where he left her, and he steals her champagne and drains most of it before he's said anything.

"You know that's free, right?" she asks. "You can just get your own?"

"You couldn't have warned me?"

"What kind of warning were you expecting? _Head's up, my mother might try to interact with you at her wedding_?"

"Basically. I didn't think we were ever going to have to have a private conversation."

"Never? For the rest of your life?"

"It's been working out for me for the last year. It didn't seem like it was going to stop." He wets his lips. "But I guess maybe not."

"We'll see," she says. She leans her head on his shoulder. "It was a nice wedding."

"Yeah."

"But ours is going to be better."

He laughs and tugs her snug against his side. She looks gorgeous, and she seems relaxed. Happy, even. This is going well, and it might get better. He feels certain it won't get worse, if nothing else.

"Oh yeah," he says. "No question."

*

"She's beautiful."

"That's not a good thing to say, Mom," says Clarke, voice tired. She's watching Abby and Cassandra with weary pride, and Bellamy can relate. He's already exhausted, and he didn't even shove a human being out of his body.

"It isn't?" Abby asks, clearly surprised. Bellamy can't actually blame her; most people wouldn't have any objections.

"Clarke's worried about how early we start teaching girls that their worth it connected to their appearance," he supplies. "We're trying to stay away from that language."

"You're worried about it too," says Clarke, petulant. "Don't act like this is just my thing."

"I would have said it if she was a boy too," says Abby. "All babies are beautiful. But I'll try not to say it."

Clarke smiles at her. She'd told her mother that she didn't have to come for the birth, but Abby was having none of it. Bellamy suspects this is going to be what finally resolves things, in a good way. The two of them were talking fairly regularly--Clarke had a calendar reminder to call every two weeks, just to be sure--but once Clarke got pregnant, Abby switched into concerned doctor mode, and now she's clearly the proudest grandmother imaginable. And Cassie will give them something to talk about. Everyone wants baby updates. She's less than a day old and Bellamy already can't stop taking pictures of her. And Abby won't want to miss birthdays or holidays. She didn't want to before, and now she has an excuse not to.

"She's perfect," she says.

"Perfect is an acceptable word?" Abby asks, sounding a little amused.

"Yeah, perfect works," says Bellamy. The baby starts to fret, and he takes her out of Abby's arms and bounces her a little. He's not going to say it, but she really _is_ the most beautiful thing she's ever seen. "Perfect, healthy, energetic, bright, strong--" Cassie starts to cry, and he gives Abby a somewhat rueful smile. "Loud."

"Happy," says Clarke, holding her arms open for Bellamy to give her Cassie. He hands her over, settling in next to Clarke as she tries to get the baby to eat. It's weird, the way as soon as a kid becomes involved, it isn't even a little weird that he's sitting next to his topless wife in a hospital bed while her mother watches them. That's just how parenthood is. Instant transformation. Everything is different. It's kind of cool.

Abby's watching with a small smile on her face, like she thinks it's pretty cool herself. "Happy," she agrees, and Bellamy thinks, yeah, that's the only word for it.

Happy.


End file.
